


Chocolate #ineffableValentines2020 prompt 1

by GayDemonicDisaster (scrapheapchallenge)



Series: Ineffable Valentines 2020 [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: #ineffableValentines2020, Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Chocolate, Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), M/M, Oral Sex, Sex, Sex and Chocolate, Valentines, ineffable valentines, ineffable valentines 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-25 17:02:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22499500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scrapheapchallenge/pseuds/GayDemonicDisaster
Summary: Crowley has a longstanding aversion to chocolate, and blames it squarely on Aziraphale. Perhaps he just needed sufficient motivation to appreciate it properly, that and a few thousand years of product development from the humans. Trust me, it’s worth it for the ending ;)
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Ineffable Valentines 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1618783
Comments: 37
Kudos: 142
Collections: Crack Fic Comedy Porn, Ineffable Valentines 2020





	Chocolate #ineffableValentines2020 prompt 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Miele_Petite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miele_Petite/gifts).



South America, 450 BC

“Crawly, what on earth are you doing over there?” Aziraphale was irritated that the demon had wandered off again and was creating some kind of a kerfuffle in the thick undergrowth. Presently the demon emerged again, slithering out and transforming up into his humanoid form again with a grumpy hiss. “Getting into an argument with an anaconda, Angel. Honestly these Amazonian serpents have  _ no _ manners at all.”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes in frustration. “You’ll offend our  _ hosts _ , Crawly. Come on over here, they’ve made drinks to welcome us. Try some.” 

Crawly grumbled, followed the angel through the undergrowth to the campfire, and took the proffered carved wooden cup reluctantly. Aziraphale smiled at him, as did the small group of villagers seated around the cooking fire in the thick jungle. Crawly sighed. “Fine. Bottoms up, or whatever.” He lifted his cup and swigged some back.

Aziraphale suddenly found himself splattered with a fine mist of cacao plant beverage as the demon spat it out at high velocity. 

“What the hell IS this muck, Aziraphale?” 

The angel glared down at his outfit, aghast, and then back up at the demon. “Crawly! You just  _ ruined _ my outfit! It’s the local speciality, made from the cacao plant, fermented, with ground corn and spices, what’s  _ wrong _ with you?” 

The demon looked unrepentant. “It’s disgusting is what it is, tastes like Satan’s bollocks. It’s so  _ bitter _ !” He spat again, trying to get the taste out of his mouth.

A spear thudded into the tree next to his head. He looked up to see the chief of the village, quivering with fury, pointing at him and yelling a string of quite colourful expletives. 

“Ahem, Crawly, dear boy, I believe that was a friendly warning shot, and you have definitely caused quite an amount of offence. Perhaps we had better be off?” 

A couple of other villagers had drawn beautifully handcrafted obsidian blades and had an unwelcoming glint in their eyes. 

“Uh, point taken” Crawly sighed, and snapped his fingers to miracle them away.

* * *

Spain, 1570.

Crowley brushed some dust off his smart black brocade jacket and sighed, spotting some horse muck on his expensive black silk heeled court shoes. He snapped his fingers to banish it, before mounting the carved marble steps to the palace of the local dignitary.

Aziraphale stood in the grand reception hall, clasping a pewter goblet and nervously chatting to a local nobleman and his wife. The angel’s face lit up as Crowley entered the hall. “Oh Crowley, my dear, do come and say hello, we were just discussing the mayor’s brother’s trips abroad. They’ve been bringing back such interesting cargoes.” 

Crowley sighed and joined them. Presently a waiter alighted at his elbow and proffered a silver tray laden with goblets. Still deep in conversation, he grabbed one and took a gulp, expecting wine.

It was not wine. Well not  _ entirely _ wine.

Yet again, Aziraphale’s eyes flew wide as his fine silk and satin waistcoat was suddenly splattered with a spray of cacao drink. 

“ANGEL!” Crowley growled, as if it were  _ his _ fault. “What is the meaning of this, this…  _ rubbish _ ?”

Aziraphale drew himself up haughtily. “ _ Crowley _ , where on earth are your  _ manners _ ? That  _ was _ the most expensive drink in this entire town, and you just spat it all over me!” He dabbed ineffectually at his waistcoat with his lace handkerchief, glaring at the demon. “It’s imported from the Americas, spiced and mixed with the local wine.” 

Crowley hissed under his breath. The Mayor and his wife were staring, wide-eyed, mouths open. “You mean to tell me it’s the same as that vile drink we were served when…” 

Aziraphale cut him off abruptly. “Well, yes, I suppose it’s similar.” 

The mayor’s temper overflowed all in one go. “I invite you into my home, I serve you my most expensive food and drink, and your companion expectorates it all over the place? GET OUT OF MY SIGHT!”

Aziraphale glared at Crowley and marched him to the door.

* * *

France, 1738.

Crowley drew up a chair and sat down at the table on the pavement outside the café next to his favourite angel. 

“Crowley, my dear boy, how have you been? Here, have some brioche, there’s a drink to dip it in as well.” 

Crowley didn’t usually partake of food very often, but the brioche did look rather good. He nibbled some, and then dipped it in the proffered mug.

He chewed.

He paused, mid-chew.

He looked at the angel.

Aziraphale’s eyebrows raised in silent query.

“Mph.. angel…” he mumbled around the mouthful. “Whatsh thish?”

“Chocolat, Crowley.”

The demon slowly spat the mouthful onto the pavement. “Is that... anything like that cacao muck you fed me in Spain?”

Aizraphale paled slightly. “Um. Yes, it is rather. You… you don’t like it?”

Crowley glared at him, his voice icy cold. “No.”

Aziraphale ordered him some wine and remained silent for the rest of the afternoon.

* * *

Switzerland, 1852.

“ _ Hiking _ , angel?” Crowley groaned wearily, resting against a rock. “ _ Really _ ? Can’t you just go bless one of the flocks in the bottom of the valley, not the woolly bastards all the way up here?” 

Aziraphale sighed. “I don’t like it any better than you do, Crowley, but you said yourself that the other shepherd is due some temptation to steal his neighbour’s sheep as well, so you might as well come up with me anyway, besides this view is  _ glorious _ . How are your feet?”

Crowley hissed and sat on the soft springy turf. “Even my  _ blisters _ have blisters, Angel. This is worse than damned horses.” He lay back dramatically on the grass. “You go on without me, I’ll await rescue. Probably freeze to death up here and end up encased in a glacier or something, all your fault.”

Aziraphale harrumphed. “It’s midsummer, Crowley, you’re more apt to get sunstroke than anything else. Come on, let’s have a bit of packed lunch.” He sat down next to the overly dramatic demon and shrugged off his pack, unwrapping some items and laying them out between them, tucking in. Crowley sat up after a while, realising that his mock histrionics were getting him zero sympathy from the angel. He picked at a few bits here and there, nibbling some bread and cheese, before his hand fell on a curious hard brown lump wrapped in paper. He picked it up and popped a piece in his mouth.

Aizraphale’s eyes went wide.

Crowley chewed once, then paused. It was all too familiar. “’Ziraphale…”

“Yes, Crowley?” the angel gulped, nervously.

“What’sh thish shtuff?”

“Um… it’s, uh, chocolate again I’m afraid. They make it in solid form nowadays….”

Crowley slowly and deliberately spat the bitter dark chocolate out on the grass and pulled a face.

“And you wonder why I rarely ever eat with you.” Crowley muttered, darkly.

“You still don’t like it then?”

“ _ NO _ .”

* * *

England, 1969.

Crowley sauntered up to Aziraphale as he sat on the bench in St James Park. The angel was throwing bread for the ducks as he waited. He looked up, delight etched onto his face. “Crowley! How are you, my dear boy?” 

Crowley sat down with a sigh and lounged out on the bench, boneless. “Eh, same as usual, Angel, you?” 

Aziraphale crumpled the empty bread bag and took something out of his pocket as they chatted. Unthinking, he held out the bar of Cadbury’s to the demon. Whatever Crowley was saying at the time screeched to a halt of sudden, oppressive silence. Aziraphale looked up. Crowley was glaring at him from behind his shades. “Crowley?”

The demon’s gaze dropped pointedly to the chocolate bar in his hand.

“Oh.” Aziraphale hurriedly withdrew the packet. “Sorry. Still not a fan, then?”

Crowley shook his head slowly. “No.”

“They put milk in it nowadays, Crowley, it’s not bitter any more like it used to be, it’s lovely, I can assure you.”

“ _ NO _ .”

* * *

Soho, England, present day: Valentine’s Day.

Despite the fact that due to a series of unfortunate encounters, Crowley still hated chocolate, he nonetheless regularly bought it for his angel. It had been part of his housewarming gift when he had first opened the bookshop all those years ago. And you couldn’t have Valentine’s Day without chocolate.

This being their first together, he had visited Paul Young chocolatiers on Wardour street in Soho, locally revered as one of the finest award-winning chocolatiers in London, and bought their most expensive selection box, all painstakingly handcrafted. To go along with this, Crowley had also bought a sprig of rare orchids for Aziraphale. He’d hidden them in the Bentley, and sneaked out before dawn to get them out, then crept up the stairs to where his angel was asleep in the bedroom above the shop.

Soft morning sun was just creeping through the blinds, illuminating Aziraphale’s face with golden light that made his already beautiful features glow. Crowley just about melted on the spot. He sat gently on the bed and ran his fingers down his angel’s bare chest. “Morning, beautiful” he whispered.

Aziraphale’s eyes were just as gorgeous as always as he opened them sleepily and yawned. He smiled to see his handsome demon above him framed in sunlight from the window. Crowley bent forward and kissed him tenderly. 

“Happy Valentine’s day, Angel.” He whisked the orchids and box of chocolates out from behind his back and handed them over. Aziraphale beamed.

Crowley sat next to him and selected a chocolate from the box, feeding it to him delicately from slender fingers. Aziraphale accepted the morsel with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, allowing his lips to linger just slightly longer than strictly necessary on those elegant digits. Crowley grinned. Aziraphale moaned decadently at the incredible sweetness of the chocolate as it melted into his mouth. Crowley shifted uncomfortably beside him, wishing his trousers weren’t  _ quite _ so tight.

He picked out a second chocolate and held it up to those angelic lips. Aziraphale locked eyes with him and ever so slowly plucked the sweet from his fingers with his teeth, then darted his tongue out to lick at them with a wink. Crowley shivered.

Aziraphale knew exactly what effect he had on the demon when he ate like this, and was enjoying every second. He slipped a hand across and slid it up Crowley’s thigh slowly, feeling a delightful fullness in the crotch area, making the demon groan gently at the contact, head tipped back and eyes closing. He looked so damned delicious that Aziraphale couldn’t help himself, he leaned across and kissed Crowley deeply. Crowley’s hands wove up into his blonde curls and caressed down his back, pulling him close.

Crowley broke off after a moment, smiling, and licked his lips. “You’re delicious, Angel.” 

“Really? Even with the chocolate?” 

Crowley’s eyebrows raised in slight surprise. “Uh, I suppose so, yes. You don’t taste bitter at all. Quite sweet actually.” 

Aziraphale laughed. “Of course I don’t, I told you, Crowley, chocolate is  _ nice _ nowadays, you simply refused to believe me.” He grinned wickedly and lay back again, picking up another chocolate himself.

He laid it on his chest and looked across at Crowley, as the chocolate slowly melted onto his skin. “Care to try another taste, darling?” He lifted the chocolate off and ate it, leaving the smear of melted chocolate on his chest. He looked down at it suggestively. Crowley raised himself onto his hands and knees and crept up toward his naked angel. He planted a soft kiss on his lips, then his jaw, down to his neck, clavicle, nipple, and then drew his tongue slowly across his chest to the little smear of melted chocolate there, and licked it off with his unnaturally long tongue and a wicked grin.

He licked his lips and smiled. “Another.”

Aziraphale grinned back with an equally mischievous edge to his expression. He placed one slightly lower down, kissed Crowley while it melted for a moment, then picked it up and ate it, allowing Crowley to lick the chocolate off his abdomen with a satisfied little moan. He withdrew and wriggled out of his clothes hurriedly. 

“This might get messy, Angel.” 

Aziraphale nodded in agreement. “I certainly hope so.”

Aziraphale selected a caramel centre and held it in his teeth, then shoved Crowley back on the bed, straddled him and leant forwards, bringing the chocolate to his mouth, until Crowley got the idea and bit half of it off with a kiss. They each ate half of the caramel chocolate with a smile, then kissed again.

“So all along all I ever needed to make it taste good was to eat it off your naked body, Angel,” Crowley observed drily. 

Aziraphale laughed, snapped his fingers and summoned a jar of Nutella from the kitchen. “I haven’t even got  _ started _ yet, demon.” He declared with a wink. “My turn.”

Crowley raised an eyebrow quizzically. “And what do you propose to do with that, angel?” He froze as Aziraphale’s hands slid downwards and teased his erection gently. 

“A little licking of my own…” Suddenly he was smearing a little chocolate hazelnut spread onto Crowley’s cock, licking his lips in anticipation. He set the jar aside and bent down to slowly, ever so slowly, lick it off.

Crowley nearly exploded. “Unk….  _ Angel _ ….” He gasped. 

Aziraphale lifted off, looking innocent. “So sorry, darling, did you want to try?” He wiggled his hips playfully, making his own cock sway temptingly. He dipped his fingers into the jar and smeared some on himself. “Come and get me.”

Crowley clambered to his hands and knees, gently pushed Aziraphale onto his back and dipped down to taste. He hummed with delight as his talented tongue went to work in ravenous circles, reducing the angel to a whimpering puddle of blasphemies. “So sorry, Angel, where are my manners?” He smeared a bit more on himself and spun around to straddle Aziraphale’s head in a sixty-nine position, then smeared bit more on Aziraphale. “Nicer to share, mmm, angel?” He was rewarded by a very sudden and delightful mouth around his own cock, wresting a surprised whimper from his lips. He blinked, and lowered his head to his lover’s pleasure again. He decided that Nutella was definitely ok, especially if it got results like this from his Angel.

By the end of the morning Crowley was very glad for demonic miracles to clean multiple chocolate stains off the bedding.


End file.
